First Times
by simply.melodie
Summary: "The first time she sees him after the war is over, the first thing she feels is relief." A collection of Madge's first experiences. Madge-centric. Gale/Madge. ONESHOT


**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and places belong to Suzanne Collins.

**.  
x  
.**

**First Times**

_i. For the first time she sees him after the war …_

The first time she sees him after the war is over, the _first_ thing she feels is _relief_ – he's actually alive; she's seen the news reports, but seeing the physical person made the fact all the more real.

The _second_ thing that registers is _disbelief_. What is he doing here – here in what was once considered to be District 2, or even here, in the _hospital_ where she is working? The war is long over and there is no reason that he should be here.

The _third _thing she takes in is how _well-dressed_ he is. And with that comes anger, anger so _fierce_ that she swears she hasn't felt anything that intense since the bombing back in District 12. Is this the same person that was always giving her a hard time about _her_ money and _her _appearance? She glances down at her plain nurse's clothing, rumpled from a sleepless night at the hospital and an angry scowl lights her features.

The _fourth_ thing that she realizes is that she is _staring_ at him. And that he is staring back with _shock _written all over his face. The _indignation_ that she senses in his gaze sends another ripple of anger through her – was it so surprising that the mayor's _spoiled_ and _pampered_ daughter survived the bombing? She can feel the anger burning in her eyes and she quickly drops her gaze to the clipboard in her hand.

She doesn't have the nerve to go and talk to him right now, so she turns around and ducks quickly into the closest hospital room she can find and goes about checking up on the patient there.

**-x-**

_ii. For the first time she has a conversation with him …_

The first time she has a conversation with him, there is just _so much_ screaming and _so many_ profanities exchanged, that it can barely even be called a conversation.

They run into each other in an elevator, an _empty_ elevator, save for the two of them. And because she still does not have the nerve to talk to him, she pretends to be busy flipping through the forms on her clipboard, pretending that he is not standing a scant two feet away from her.

She is marking something down on one of the forms when he says something, and she is so shocked at the familiar timbre of his voice that she nearly drops her pen.

And when the elevator stops abruptly and the power goes out, she thinks that the day can't _possibly_ get any worse.

"Pardon me?" she murmurs, not bothering to look up from the papers.

"So you made it out, huh?" he says, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

The way he used to treat her because of their social differences has always been a sore spot for her, and the implication that she probably wouldn't have made it out because of her soft lifestyle irks her to no end.

"Nice shirt," she says, mimicking his mocking tone of voice from a time that seems a million years away. She still refuses to look up. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his fingers curling into a fist, and it takes all of her willpower to not flinch away.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" he asks, and she can hear his teeth gnashing and the strain in his voice and she knows that it is taking all of _his_ willpower to not pull a fast one and punch her.

"Nothing," she says as coolly as she can manage with all of that _fiercefierce_ anger boiling inside her. And then, because she can't help spiting him, she adds in a sarcastic voice, "How much did _that _cost you?"

She's unsure if it's the implication that his life is easy or if it's the fact that suddenly, he is the one being mocked because of his money that makes him punch the elevator wall two inches from her face.

She jumps back, recoiling in shock and scattering her papers everywhere. "What the hell was _that_ for?" she demands angrily. She backs up a couple more inches, away from the fist that is still planted on the wall.

"Do you think that this is _easy_ for me? That just because my life is suddenly full of rich food and expensive items, that it's _easy_ and _enjoyable_?" his voice raises a couple notches, probably to intimidate her.

She laughs mirthlessly, "well, aren't you _such_ a little hypocrite?" she bends down and starts to gather her papers, reorganizing them neatly in her clipboard. She is reaching for her pen, when his foot comes down on it angrily, barely missing her fingers. She instantly yanks her hand away and scowls. "What the _fuck_."

"Looks like the mayor's spoiled little daughter has a _pottymouth_," his tone of voice matches her sarcastic tone _perfectly_. "And this is completely different from _you_ having money when _nobody else_ did."

And she knows that he is exaggerating, stretching the truth, but she has little patience for the tiny detail. Instead, she shoves him angrily and reaches over, snatching her pen back up before he has a chance to step on it again. "No, maybe _you_ didn't have money and maybe nobody else in the Seam did either, but that doesn't make _me _a bad person," she says, her calm voice betraying her _darkdark_ feelings.

"You're so _despicable_," he laughs, cold, hard and loud. He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating what he wants to say next. "_Fuck you_," he says, leaning in so close that she can smell his aftershave.

"Maybe I _was_ despicable," she gives him a cruel smile, "but you weren't much different either."

His anger falters and his face registers surprise at her words before his expression settles back into an angry mask. "You just don't understand; nobody _now_ is on the brink of starvation, nobody _now_ is slaving away, trying to earn what little they can to support their families, nobody _now_ has to get _tesserae_. Back _then_, _you_ were living your little pampered life while people were _dying_ of starvation, and you didn't even lift a finger to help them out." His voice is so full of dark, angry emotion that she thinks that he has probably been thinking this since _forever ago_.

She gives a haunted laugh, "You say it like I had a choice." And before he has a chance to respond, the elevator springs back to life and the doors open, revealing her destination. She steps out and walks away, not giving even the slightest glance in his direction.

She tells herself that the _heavyheavy_ ache in her stomach is her anger at him, and _not_ re-emerging, unwanted, irrational feelings that she had when she was a silly, innocent schoolgirl.

**-x-**

_iii. For the first time she sees the softer, more vulnerable side of him …_

When she sees the name _Hazelle Hawthorne_ on one of her hospital forms, she drops it in shock, letting her papers flutter to the ground. _Nonono, this is all wrongwrongwrong_, she thinks to herself. _She's a survivor, she survives._ With shaky hands, she gathers up the forms and leans against Room 1015 to catch her breath and to steady herself before going in.

"It's okay, Ma, you're going to be perfectly fine." She falters at the sound of _his_ voice, at the _tenderness_ that she is sure was _nevereverever_ there before.

"You're such a wonderful son, Gale," his mother sighs contentedly, "I couldn't have raised a finer young man."

She nearly snorts because she thinks that the woman must be _crazy&delusional&outofhermind_ if she thinks he's a good son, but pulls herself together, remembering that she is not even supposed to be there.

"Ma …" he says, a little exasperated, and she _swears_ she can practically see the _redred_ blush adorning his cheeks.

"Take care of them for me, Gale," she says, her voice breathy and sallow. She laughs quietly, "but then again, you always have. You grew up so much faster than you should've needed to."

"_Ma_," he says, "you _know_ I would've done anything for the three of them. And for you." And she _swears_ he is thinking angry thoughts about her when he adds on, "we just weren't as lucky as the Town people."

"Come now, Gale," his mother sighs exasperatedly, "you _know_ that none of this is that girl's fault; she can't help the way she was born."

And she thinks that her heart stopped for a minute, her blood running cold; what _on earth_ does he tell his mother about her? Her hand itches to turn the doorknob, to practically announce to them that she had heard their conversation, but she stops herself, forcing her hands away from the door and leaning against the wall once more.

She can practically hear him fuming as he mumbles something about his brothers and sister and _starvation_.

"Gale, you have to know that I love you and that you couldn't have made me more proud. I don't know how much longer – "

"Ma," he stops her mid-sentence. "Do _not_ talk like that. Not now."

"Gale, you _have _to listen to me. It could be any day now. The doctor says – "

"_Ma_," he says, with a little more force than before. "_No_."

And suddenly she feels like she is watching the 74th Hunger Games all over again, watching Katniss trying to convince Peeta that he is not going to _diediedie_, and she can feel the anxiety building in her chest, all kinds of horrible memories suddenly flooding her mind. _No, District 2, you are in District 2. You are not there, not there, not there, not there_, she repeats this in her mind, pulling herself out of her nightmare.

She forces a smile onto her face before she reaches over and opens the door. Her face is indifferent as she takes in the scene before her. Hazelle lies on a hospital bed, a drip hooked up to her arm – _probably morphling_, she thinks – and _him_, sitting on a chair next to it, cradling a not-so-little Posy in his arms. She turns away from him, pretending not to see him wiping his eyes angrily, and focuses her whole attention on the sickly pale woman. She does her routine check-up, asking how Hazelle is, making small-talk about how life is _different_ from District 12, and she swears that she sees _him_ sneering at her from his seat next to the bed.

She thinks she sees Hazelle giving her son a very pointed look as she is leaving, and she is _certain_ that she sees him lean over and give his mother a kiss on the cheek and whisper _iloveyou_ to her, and she swears she can see a little bit of the boy that she used to be _ohsoinlove_ with when she was a young girl.

**-x-**

_iv. For the first time she comforts him …_

It is two weeks after her visit to her that Hazelle leaves this godforsaken world, and the first thing that she feels is _relief_ that she has gone off to a better place, far, far away from the_ destruction&chaos&badbadmemories_. And then she feels the _grief_, feels the remorse and the pain, and she mourns for a woman she barely knows. A brave, brave woman who survived the Seam, bringing up three children – three children and one man who grew up much too fast – without her husband. She doesn't _dare_ attend the ceremony for fear that _he _will be there to yell more obscenities at her. What she _does _do though, is buy a bouquet of posy flowers and brings them to her gravesite after the ceremony is over. She mumbles _goodbye_ and _thankyou_, raises her left hand, kisses her three middle fingers and raises them towards Hazelle's grave.

She doesn't realize that he is still there until he is already standing right behind her. And then it is too late for her to make a run for it. She doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to see the icy cold steel orbs boring holes into her, so she stands stock-still, staring off into the vast expanse of the cemetery.

"What are you doing here?" his voice, which she expects to be just as icy cold as his eyes, turns out to be soft and full of anguish for his lost mother.

"Just leaving," she mumbles, and then, forgetting that he is still standing behind her, she turns around and nearly runs right into him. She is so startled when he catches her with an arm around her waist that she squeaks and nearly shoves him away from her.

He quickly drops his hand from around her waist as if it was burning _hothothot_ and quickly takes a step backwards, away from her.

She looks at him, at his eyes – eyes that used to be filled to the brim with the determination to _survive_ and to _support_ and to _givegivegive_ – eyes that are now empty and dull. She pulls her gaze away, scared of the blankness in them. She makes a mad dash back in the general direction of the city, pausing to turn back around at the entrance of the cemetery. And she wants to leave and distance herself as much as possible, but she knows she just _can't_ when she sees him hunched over the grave, anguished sobs racking his entire form, making him seem more vulnerable that she's _everever_ seen him before.

And she knows that she will hate herself for this later, but she makes her way back to the grave and hesitantly wraps her arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture and gently rubs his back. She murmurs comforting words into his ear while she rocks him gently. She listens to him sob about his mother, about how great she was, about what she had to go through in the Seam (and she half expects him to yell at her because she never had to endure hardships like that, but he doesn't) and about how much he _loveslovesloves_ her. She doesn't say anything because she's scared that if she does, he will revert back to his insult-throwing self and she thinks that she likes the more vulnerable, softer side of him much better.

She cradles him in her arms for hours on end while he sobs and cries out his anguish to her. She is not sure what to do with him and is considering taking him back to _her_ house when Rory shows to take him home. She gently pries his fingers off her shoulder where he had gripped her shirt and hands him over to Rory who isn't quite as little as she remembers him being.

As she watches them walk off, she briefly wonders if he will even remember this.

**-x-**

_v. For the first time that she trusts him …_

It takes him a long time to get even an inkling of trust from her, but when he manages to get that one small piece of her trust, she gives up everything to him – tells him every little secret, every dark truth about her life and her parents and about things that he never thought were possible; she hands herself over to him, wholly gives herself to him, asking for forgiveness and trust and love.

She tells him about her life in the district, how her father used to try to help out the Seam people by having food drives and charities. She tells him that sometimes his efforts sometimes weren't appreciated, that people would refuse his help, throw the food right back in his face.

"They didn't want his pity," she whispers, "Sounds like somebody I know."

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from lashing out at her – she's finally starting to trust him and he doesn't want to ruin that; after his mother's funeral, he realized something about her that he'd never thought true before: _Madge Undersee was just another human being_. Sure, she used to be rich and privileged, but inside, she wasn't so different. "So why did he stop?" he nearly sneers at her. Nearly. "It wasn't like there weren't people who still needed his help."

'_Like Katniss and Prim and you and your family,'_ she thinks to herself. But she doesn't dare say it because she thinks that it will upset him – and she doesn't want to ruin their little moment together.

"That was a really long time ago," she tells him, "before we were born. It was way back when the peacekeepers weren't as strict and stingy, back when there was some semblance of peace in the district. It was before the Capitol and President Snow got angry with my father and put an end to his antics."

And he gets this sick feeling in his stomach; something tells him that he isn't going to like what she's about to tell him – maybe it's the haunted look in her eyes or her weary facial expression. "O-kay …," he says hesitantly. "What happened?"

She turns around and gazes at him for a moment before diverting her eyes to stare at the ground. "They took her away. They took my mom! She was pregnant at the time and they took her! They tortured her, did unthinkable things to her; she miscarried and she was never the same again!" she is practically screaming now, tears of anguish streaming down her face. "Everybody thinks that the reason my mom has headaches is because she lost her sister in the Games … they're wrong; she has headaches because she keeps reliving the nights she spent in the Capitol," she says in a more subdued voice.

He knows that his question is inappropriate at the moment, but he can't help asking, "But … you're here. How could your mother have miscarried?" He winces and gives her an apologetic look when her eyes fill with tears again. "I'm – sorry; you don't have to answer that."

"My mom told me that they never intended to have another child, but the Capitol forced them to; they threatened to take her again. What choice did she have?" She wipes the tears with the back of her hand and stares determinedly at the ground, refusing to look up.

"Your mom told you that? Why would she tell you that? You're just a child; you didn't need to hear _any_ of that," he stares at her incredulously.

"My mom wasn't sane!" she practically yells. "She lived off morphling all her life; sometimes she let things slip; she probably never intended for me to know any of it, but when you're living off morphling, it's hard to make sense of things … and she talked; maybe she thought she was talking to somebody else." She pauses for a brief second. "Do you know how hard it was for me to live with that? To know that they never wanted me, that I was just the result of a Capitol threat, that if it weren't for the Capitol, I might not even exist? Every time I look at my parents, my mom's words echo in my head and I remember that they don't really love me – I wasn't born because of their love, I was born because of their fear. And more than anything, I think that the Capitol forced them to have me because they could use _me_. There wasn't any hope left for my mother – we could've just left her to d-die," she sobs quietly, "not that we would, but we could've put an end to her suffering. And then they wouldn't have anything else to use against my father. So they forced my parents to have me. I'm a Capitol tool, Gale, nothing more!"

When he looks at her and sees the _broken_ look on her face, he can't stop himself from pulling her weeping form into a tight hug. Awkwardly, he brings one hand up to her head and soothingly smoothes her hair down. "Shh … you're not a Capitol tool, Madge, you're not. Look," he says, rubbing her arm gently, "you said so yourself – you're mom was living off morphling; she didn't know what she was talking about. For all you know, those could've been lies that the Capitol convinced her to believe." His face darkens. "You saw what they did to Mellark. _Nothing_ could've stopped that guy from loving Katniss and look at how they changed that."

"It's just – " and then the real waterworks come as tears come streaming down her face. And she thinks that part of the reason why she is crying is because _Gale_ is sitting here, comforting her and making her feel better, and _not_ insulting her like he normally does. So she buries her face in his shoulder and wraps her tiny arms around his neck and continues to cry.

After a while, she pulls her face away from her shoulder and stares at him somberly, waiting for him to say something.

"Madge … what are you doing here in District 2? How did you even get out of District 12?" he asks, gingerly running a finger through her blond curls.

At the mention of District 12, she can feel her heart being torn to pieces. Her parents are _gonegonegone_. There is nothing left in District 12 but rubble and the ghosts of the dead, wisps of the liveliness that used to exist there. Her eyes fill with more tears and she buries her face into his shirt again. "I wasn't _in_ District 12 when it was destroyed. I was in the Capitol," she mumbles into his shirt. And she thinks she feels his arms tightening their hold around her, almost protectively. But then she remembers that this is Gale and she almost laughs at how _absurd_ she must seem for even thinking that he might be protective of her. But her almost-laugh comes out as a nervous splutter that can't even be interpreted as anything more than a sob.

"What were you doing in the Capitol, Madge?" there's an edge in his voice that she doesn't quite recognize – anger? Disappointment? Regret? She's not quite sure what it is.

"Because they found out something that they shouldn't have," she says, albeit reluctantly. She never imagined that she would _ever_ be talking about this to _Gale Hawthorne _of all people and she's not quite sure that she's ready to share this particular piece of information with anybody, let alone somebody that used to hate her with a burning passion.

He must sense the hesitation in her voice because he adds, in an encouraging voice, "You can tell me. Talking about it should help you feel better. It's good to share these things with other people."

"My father … he was part of a rebel organization; he and Haymitch gathered information about rebel activities in other districts because they're the only ones with access to that kind of information. I … well, let's just say that I played a hand in it too."

"Your _father_ let you do that?" his voice is incredulous and she thinks that maybe he's not that different from her father – too overprotective for their own good.

She smacks his arm. "_No_, of course he didn't, but I insisted. And Haymitch kind of backed me up because I was quick and resourceful." Her breath hitches and another sob catches in her throat as the memories start to flood her mind. Her whole form starts to shake against his still body and soon she is wracked with more sobs. "The Capitol found out – about everything! And – oh God, it was so unexpected – they just burst into my house one day and …" her voice trails off as she breaks down into more sobs.

"Shhh, it's okay … you're safe now; nothing is ever going to hurt you again. I promise," he whispers as he gently smoothes her hair down.

"Then I don't remember anything," she lets out another nervous splutter and unconsciously, she wonders why she is continuing with her story when he hasn't even asked her to. But it's like a plug has burst and not that she's started, she can't seem to stop the onslaught of words pouring out of her mouth. "And when I woke up, I was somewhere terrible with weapons and – and people in white. And … all I remember now is a lot of pain and a lot of screaming and pictures of the bombings in 12 and oh god, I felt like I wanted to_die_."

And when he doesn't say anything, she doesn't know if it's because he's speechless because he's shocked or if it's because he's afraid to say anything that might set her off again.

"And all I can remember thinking was _'I want this to end. Let me just die here_.' But the end never came – it just went on _and on and on_ and I felt like I was shrivelling up and dying inside. And when it was over – when Katniss won, all I knew was that I couldn't go back to 12. So … I guess I somehow ended up in District 2."

Finally, she looks at him, waiting for his reaction, and is surprised to see the angry glint in his eyes. "Gale …?" she whispers cautiously.

"Sorry you had to go through that," he says and his voice his hoarse and he sounds _oh so _sincere and _genuine_ that she thinks that maybe he does care for her, even if it's just a little bit. He pulls her back into a tight hug and refuses to let go for a long, _long_ time.

And she feels like she's done the right thing for once because she feels like the burden of her past and her pent-up secrets and all those _darkdark_ feelings are finally out in the open.

**-x-**

_vi. For the first time that they talk about their feelings_ …

The first time that they talk about their feelings is a result of another intense argument between them.

"I already told you, I am _not_ going! How many times do I have to say it before it gets through your thick skull?" he yells at her, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"I don't understand what the big deal is! If she's mature enough to put everything behind her and invite you over for a Christmas dinner, I think _you_ should be mature enough to accept the invitation and go!" she screams back, sounding just as aggravated as he is.

"I killed her sister, Madge. There's no way that she can just put that in the past. Prim was the most important person in her life and I _killed_ her. How can I face her knowing I took the most important person from her life?"

"We've been through this, Gale! That _wasn't_ your fault; it was Coin's decision to drop the bombs, not yours. Why do you insist on blaming yourself?" she tugs gently at the end of her blond ponytail and glares across the room at him.

"I made that bomb! If it weren't for me, there would _be_ no bomb to kill Prim with! What don't you understand about that?"

"_Obviously_ Katniss doesn't think so! Or do you think she would really be inviting you over for a Christmas dinner if she did? She loved Prim – she still does, but you're her freaking best friend! I think she knows that you never had that intention when you made those bombs. Gale, the blame doesn't lie in the maker of the bomb – it lies in its user. And that's not _you_."

"I – oh, fine. _Fine_. But you're coming with me; no excuses. And if it starts getting awkward or tense, I am _leaving_." the glare he sends in her direction sends shivers down her spine and she _knows_ better than to argue with him.

"Yes, sir!" she says, smiling brightly at him, glad that he's finally agreed to do _something_ about his _brokenbroken_ friendship with Katniss.

He rolls his Seam-grey eyes at her and mutters, "Damn women are so stubborn. I can't believe I let her talk me into this."

"I am _not_ stubborn!" she yells back, appalled. "I am _making _you do this, because I _know _that if you don't, you might just never talk to her again. She's your best friend, Gale. Why is it so hard to spend _one_ freaking Christmas dinner with her and her family?"

"Maybe because Mellark is going to be there?" his voice rises to match hers as he throws his hands up in the air once more in frustration. "You wouldn't understand; you don't know what unrequited love is like." He starts to walk away.

"_Oh_," she says, a sharp pain piercing her chest. "You don't want to go because you still love Katniss, right? Is that it? Because you're jealous and you don't want to see her being all lovey-dovey with Peeta?" She sneers at him, an attempt to hide the hurt that she is actually feeling. "And god damnit, Gale, I know exactly what unrequited love feels like. What?" she asks, her blue eyes flashing in anger when she sees the incredulous look on his face, "Did you think that just because I was a Merchant girl, I could have anybody that I wanted?"

"I don't love Katniss!" he practically screams this across the room. "But that doesn't mean that I didn't love her before and that doesn't mean that it's not going to hurt when I see the two of them together. It's just hard for me to accept the fact that she chose _him_ over me, okay? I was her best friend! She's known me since forever and she knew Mellark for what, maybe a couple months? And she _still_ chose him! Do you know how that makes me feel?" He runs a hand through his dark hair and turns away from me.

"If you don't love her then what hell is the problem?" she walks over to him and jabs a finger into his chest. "Are you just too chicken to go and see her? Are you scared that she might still blame you for something that you never did? Or are you scared that your feelings for her might resurface and you won't be able to let her go?" With each question, she pokes his chest, causing him to stumble backwards until his back hits the counter.

"No, Madge, I _don't_ like Katniss, and I'm _not_ scared that I'm going to like her again if I see her! God damnit, why is that so hard for you to understand?" he demands as he grabs her finger in his right hand. He pushes her back gently, away from him.

"It's hard for me to understand because I don't see how you could get over somebody that you've been so in love with for such a long time! And you've been in love with Katniss for _two years_. How do you get over that?" She asks and she can feel the back of her eyes starting to sting. _'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_,' she repeats this mantra over and over again in her head in an attempt to force back the onslaught of tears.

"Because … because … maybe there's somebody else!" he snaps angrily. He crosses his arms stubbornly across his chest, not willing to reveal anything else. "You should know; or are you still pining over that guy that you used to love?"

"Maybe I am!" she snaps, her harsh tone matching his perfectly. Her eyes are starting to fill with tears; he's already found somebody else – the war's only been over for a little less than a year and he's already moved on. She has no chance now.

Her admonition stops him short. "Wow. He must be one heck of a guy if you're _still _in love with him after all this time. Who was it? Somebody from Town? Did I know him?"

She's not sure how they managed to transition from a screaming match into … _this_ discussion and she's most definitely not sure if she likes this any more than she did the argument. She nibbles on her bottom lip and mumbles, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on, Madge. You knew about my being in love with Katniss; it's only fair that I get to know the name of this guy. What difference does it make anyways? It's not like you're ever going to see him again."

"_Everybody_ knew about you being in love with Katniss," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We all thought the two of you were going to get married one day and most people half-expected the two of you to just disappear into the woods and never show up again."

"You – what?" he stares at her incredulously as if she had just said the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Then he catches himself. "Don't you dare try to change the subject; tell me who it was."

She looks at him and then gazes at the ground, her face starting to turn a bright rosy red. "It's … you, okay? Are you happy now? Are you going to make fun of me for being a hopeless Town girl that likes a Seam boy that she can never have?" she backs away from him and starts to make a run for the door of his apartment, but is stopped by his hand around her wrist. Slowly, she turns around, but she doesn't look up because she is _oh so_ scared to see the mirth in his eyes and to hear him laughing at her feelings.

"You … like me?" he asks. And she is _soso_ surprised that there is no laughter in his voice, no mirth, not even the hint of a smirk, just pure astonishment.

"I – " briefly, she contemplates the consequences of denying his admonition, but decides that it won't do her any good to lie to him at this point in time and just nods her head solemnly, still refusing to look up. "Don't laugh at me. Please don't. I know you don't like me, so please … just don't be around me for a while, okay? I just want … some – "

She is cut off mid-sentence by a pair of soft lips meeting her own in a chaste kiss, and she is so surprised that her eyes fly open and her hands automatically come up to push against his chest. But he is much stronger than he is and she isn't able to push him away.

He pulls away just slightly and rests his forehead against hers. "I love you too," he whispers quietly as he brings one hand up to gently caress her cheek.

She stares at him, at his grey eyes, his liquid silver grey eyes, burning with desire and she knows that he isn't lying to her. "I – " She wants to tell him that she loves him, that she's loved him ever since he and Katniss had started selling strawberries to her, that he was one of those constants – no matter how things changed back in District 12, he would always, _always_ show up on her doorstep every morning, bearing a basket of strawberries for her to buy. She wants to tell him that she loves his fire, his determination, his undying love and devotion for his family. She wants to tell him all of this and more, but finds herself unable to when he presses his lips to her once more, this time in a slower, more passionate kiss.

They spend hours together that night, kissing and hugging and just enjoying each other's presence, and at one point, she finds her back pressed against the mattress of his bed, with him hovering above her. And although they do not make love to each other, she spends the night with him. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear and she tells him everything that she had wanted to before he cleared her mind of any sane thought.

And for the first time since the bombing in District 12, she thinks that she is finally, truly happy again.

**.**

**x**

**.**

**E.N.D**

**A/N:** Just a little something that I whipped up because not many people seem to Gale/Madge fans. And oh my god, it's been so freaking long since I last posted something ... I am a terrible writer. But anyways, I hope you liked this little one-shot. Review please! I always appreciate constructive criticism (I am not the most confident person in the world when it comes to my writing skills ...).


End file.
